What is it really like to own a B&B (cont.)? Borland House Disaster Strikes
Why is it that when things are humming along and I’m feeling at the top of my game, the next Borland House disaster will, inevitably, strike?
Last spring Bill and I had boldly blocked out 4 nights during my school vacation week. We were going to get away and let others pamper us for a change. Anticipating our Monday morning escape, I skipped through a week-end completely full with guests. When our Friday night guests arrived after midnight instead of 8:00 as they had planned, I cheerfully greeted them, offering tea and cookies. Saturday morning I didn’t even mind one bit that the guest in the Isabella room forgot to mention ahead of time that she was a gluten-free raw foodist. Nothing frustrated me this week-end because we were going on our first 4-day vacation since opening up the Borland House. Yay! Nothing could possibly upset me. Or so I thought.
Sunday morning I was humming “Give My Regards to Broadway” as I diced red peppers for the frittata. Bill was playfully flipping sausages into the air. Next, I floated into the dining room with the coffee pot and saw guests sipping tea and relaxing with the NY Times in the parlor. Another couple was about to sit down at the table, strains of Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons” wafting through the air. This was a moment that made me realize I love what I do. However, the moment was exactly that–a moment–and it quickly passed.
John from the Montgomery room quietly padded into the main foyer wearing nothing but a velour robe. “Carol, sorry to bother you, but I can’t seem to get any water pressure in the shower.”
I did what any level-headed innkeeper would do right then. “No problem, John. Wait right here. I’m going to get Bill” (Bill who was in the midst of sauteing, beating, chopping, slicing, toasting).
As I turned to go to the kitchen, I was doused with water pouring through the ceiling fixture from another guest bathroom above.
“Bill, you HAVE TO DO SOMETHING. John has no water pressure in the Montgomery room and the Hanlon room bath is flooding the downstairs foyer. Maybe we should ask John to bring his soap downstairs and shower right here in the hallway. Pressure coming through the ceiling looks more than adequate!” I screeched in a whisper.
Bill calmly asked John to “give it a few minutes and try again” (that’s what you always say when you don’t know what to say). I sloshed through the parlor discreetly carrying a mop and bucket hoping to contain the tidal wave in our foyer.
The good news: On the second try, John did, indeed, get his shower. And, lastly, after a mere $1000, we got our water pressure problem fixed. check out:www.theborlandhouse.com